


Get By With A Little Help

by paxnirvana



Series: Rock and Fire [1]
Category: Fantastic Four (Movieverse)
Genre: Friends With Benefits, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-14
Updated: 2011-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-26 01:36:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/277129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paxnirvana/pseuds/paxnirvana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Learning to cope with bodies changed by cosmic rays is a challenge. Sometimes you just need a little help from your friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get By With A Little Help

**Author's Note:**

> Ffffff me. Just tortured myself with the truly hideous Fantastic Four 2: Rise of the Silver Surfer movie and OMG BAD MOVIE BAAAAD MOVIE *UGH*. But Chris Evans as Johnny Storm and Michael Chiklis as Ben Grimm are too fucking adorable with and around each other (seriously, they are the only reason to watch this steaming piece of crap) and then I found out what Marvel did to Johnny Storm recently… (bastards!). So. This. Set just before #2 so I don’t even have to think about Sue Storm as a Bridezilla. *shudders*

Ben Grimm was wandering the top level of the Baxter Building, unable to sleep. It was one of those nights. The ones where the ominous creaking sounds even his specially-reinforced bed made when he turned over were too much for him to bear. And where Alicia was working on her sculptures and needed time to herself so he couldn’t call her. No. Wouldn’t call her. She didn’t need to prop his sorry orange ass up all the time anyway. He’d deal tonight. And see her later in the week when she was done with her latest project, as they’d agreed.

He had a pitcher of beer in one hand, drawn from his personal keg, and was pacing the main level. From the big window-filled lounge with the elevator banks, through the open kitchen/dining area through the huge sprawling TV room, the smaller library, the two bathrooms on either end, Reed and Sue’s suite, the exercise rooms and past the lab entrance. Reed’s lab took up most of the space in the center of course, so the circuit was big enough to give him a decent path to pace. He’d paced it many a night. He was taking swallows from his pitcher as his gaze swept restlessly over the security monitors Reed had set up outside the lab.

He frowned, brow crackling a bit over his eyes as he saw the indicators that showed the fire suppression system had gone off in Johnny’s room again. They’d long ago turned off the heat sensor alarm; Johnny burst into flame from dreams sometimes. There was no sense panicking all of them each time.  It made Susie nervous, but they’d finally had to dial down the smoke sensitivity on the system too so that it would only alert them all if smoke got outside the kid’s room. Reed’s ventilation system worked pretty well though, so if Johnny roasted his dresser by accident the smoke wouldn’t annoy them all.

The kid was the best fire-suppressant they had. If he was paying attention. Which was the problem. Sometimes the knucklehead just didn’t pay enough attention to things—or people— around him.

Like his date tonight. Ben grimaced as he remembered the puzzled and awkward look on the kid’s face when he’d come back home.  Some vapid, jet-set, trust fund girl he’d been chasing for the last month had finally given in and gone out on a date with him. Only to scream at him and call him a freak in front of half a dozen paparazzi when he accidentally lit her tiny green silk jacket on fire guiding her inside some over-priced, trendy club. Ben had laughed along with him, earlier, when he described the way she shrieked and flailed before Johnny could suck the heat back out of the flame and away from her body, keeping her safe from any damage to her skin. But the jacket had still been singed black all along one arm and Miss No-Personality had looked like a screaming fool in front of the cameras.

Of far more concern to Ben was the fact that Johnny had lost control in public like that. Again. Which meant the kid was far too wound up. Again.

He took another slug of beer. Frowned at the monitors some more. Wrestled with his conscience. Then, with a deep sigh, put the pitcher down on the nearest table and made his way to Johnny’s room.

He didn’t knock, just opened the door. As he’d suspected it wasn’t locked. Not that it would have stopped him if it was. The room was only mostly dark. Johnny had skylights in his room. Two big ones that opened so he could fly in and out if he liked. The glow of city light and stars made the room never more than dim, which, to Ben was an abomination. He needed it dark when he was sleeping. As pitch black as it could get. But this was Johnny’s room, not his.

So by the light of the skylights he could clearly see the thick drifts of foam from the fire suppression system on the floor around the bed. And he could smell the lingering scent of burned cotton and synthetics. He frowned again. Usually if Johnny burned his clothes away he burned them to ash. He looked at the bed in concern. The bedding –  special sheets that Reed had designed and manufactured to be heat-immune, of course – were tangled at the foot of the bed. Flat on the mattress – again not really a mattress, but a gel-filled pad that was also immune to flame – lay Johnny Storm. Naked, of course, and face-down with his head buried in a (fire-proof) pillow with both arms wrapped tight around it

“Hey kid,” Ben said as he shut and locked the door behind himself.

Johnny didn’t answer, just shifted on the bed, drawing one knee up toward his stomach. The move made his bare ass flex and his back arch, exposing his balls and half-hard cock to Ben. Which was more than he really needed to see of his best friend’s girl’s little brother’s junk, but it wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last, that he’d had this kind of view of Johnny. Naked was practically Johnny’s natural state half the time these days anyway and he hadn’t been exactly shy to begin with. 

Ben sighed. “That bad, huh?” He stumped over to the bed. Sat down on the foot of it, near Johnny’s extended leg. The bed creaked a little and the gel in it shifted some, but it held his weight with ease. All the furniture in the entire living quarters had been reinforced to take his weight. It was one of those things Reed had just done automatically; made everything in the place where Ben lived sturdy enough to hold his new form.  He’d never found enough words to thank Reed for it, not that the big-brain would understand why Ben was so grateful for the little, ordinary things like that anyway. He’d just wave it away as nothing. A given. And that was one reason he and Reed were still friends after all this screwing around with their DNA and absent-minded-professor stuff. Underneath it all Reed was just decent. If a bit clueless about some things. Like gratitude.

“Go away Ben. I’ll clean the crap up tomorrow.” Johnny’s voice was heavily muffled by the pillow but he picked the words up anyway.

“Been losing it a bit more than normal lately, haven’t ya, kid,” Ben said, looking across Johnny’s room at the garish pictures he had on the walls. Of cars, planes and women. The sleeker and faster the better. And pictures of himself, of course, too. On fire, mostly.

Johnny didn’t answer this time. Just tightened his grip on the pillow in his arms, making his shoulders flex, his back arch.

Ben sighed. Laid a careful hand on Johnny’s calf. “Need some help?” he asked quietly, his voice a low rumble.

They didn’t talk about it openly much, but being like this – being different from the rest of humanity in ways that were actively dangerous – was a strain.  There weren’t many people who understood the sheer effort it took every hour of every day just to try to act normal… to act _human_.

Only around each other could they let their guard drop. And only with Ben could Johnny relax all the way.

He’s still not sure how it started. Oh, he knows how it _started_ – with Johnny drunk off his ass one night and Ben dragging him back to the Baxter Building by main force from a bar fight that might have turned into a riot if he hadn’t yanked the kid out of the middle of it, dripping fire and blood from a split lip, swearing louder than the approaching sirens, and the way Johnny on an adrenaline high had shamelessly humped his leg in the elevator, the flames that burned his clothes off as he lost control when he came doing nothing to Ben’s impervious orange-rock hide – but not how he kept going along with it. But then again it was Johnny Storm. And the kid was always there, with his brash grins and competitive nature, his terrible skills with women and his seemingly indestructible self-confidence no matter how many times he crashed and burned that still masked a kind, if reckless, heart.

Johnny hadn’t answered him but he hadn’t shaken Ben’s hand off either. Which was enough of a sign to him, after the past year, for him to know what Johnny needed tonight. He gently patted the bare leg under his hand, then lurched to his feet again. He walked over to the closet and opened it. The metal box sat where he’d put it last, dead center on the front shelf. He often wondered why Johnny left it there. At eye level. It had to be a reminder, every time he saw it, of nights like this. Or maybe the kid was just that shallow and lazy and deep things like _shame_ or _regret_ actually never occurred to him. It was hard to tell sometimes with Johnny. Ben shook the unkind thought away and picked up the box with one hand.

But when he turned back to the bed it was to find that Johnny was ready for him. He’d laid himself flat on his stomach, legs spread open, face still pressed into the pillow but turned so it was visible now, his arms still circling the pillow too but not clutching it quite so tightly anymore. His eyes were closed. Or closed enough that Ben couldn’t see them, thick lashes fluttering on his cheeks. He swallowed a little at the sight, throat gone oddly tight.

Ben sat on the bed beside his hip, set the box down with a click on the metal night stand.  The gel-bed didn’t shift, but he could still see Johnny quiver at his return. The lever for the catch was big enough that even his thick, clumsy fingers could open it with ease. He reached inside the box.

Reed made everything for them, and, thankfully, rarely asked questions. He didn’t think of every little thing on his own, of course, but a few words from Ben were usually enough to prod him in the right direction. Then he’d just nod and go to work on the challenge until he found a solution. And he always did. So now Ben took out specially made condoms and lube that were fire immune. He set them down on the bed by Johnny’s shoulder. Where he could see them if his eyes were actually open.

“You sure?” Ben asked. The question made the lowered eyelashes flutter a bit, but, to his relief, Johnny just nodded vigorously. He always asked. He had to.

Then he put one huge hand on Johnny’s back. Stroked it slowly down the taut line of muscle and flesh to the firm rise of his butt.  He couldn’t feel things quite the same anymore, but he could still feel. Flesh and muscle and the hard arch into his touch. He didn’t really like to admit to himself how much he liked it when Johnny got like this. He so seldom got to just touch anyone like this anymore. Alicia especially. Granted, most of his own reluctance to touch her came from concern for the way his rock-like skin might scrape up her fragile flesh than from any inability to feel on his side. But Johnny arched up into his touch without hesitation, breath hissing out while fire trailed behind Ben’s palm, flames flickering wildly across his skin. He stroked back up through the flames without pausing, the heat of them filling his palm with little more than a tingle.

Johnny groaned loud and long. His hips rocked hard against the bed, the muscles of his back bunching tight. “Easy,” Ben murmured, “Easy there kid. We’re just gettin’ started.”

“Been too long,” Johnny finally said, his voice hoarse. His eyes opened reluctantly and he looked up at Ben with a pleading expression even as flame flickered through his hair, over his lips. “Just do it. Please, Ben. I need it too much tonight.”

Ben gave him a wry smile. “Ya always go too fast, Hothead. Cool off.”

He shifted, turned to face Johnny more fully. Put both hands on him then. Stroking and touching him. Everywhere. Arms, thighs, ass, back, neck. And everywhere he touched flames danced and rose, died back and flared, stuttered and shifted across Johnny’s skin.

Johnny groaned under his hands. Eyes closing, mouth opening. He panted and thrust against the bed, fire-wreathed hands fisting tight enough in the pillow that even that tough material began to look a little singed.

“Hey, hey now, I said cool off,” Ben said. He reached up and uncurled one of Johnny’s hands from the pillow and brought it to his mouth. Put all four fingers in his mouth and sucked on them carefully, licking the flames off them with his tongue. Alicia had told him once that his tongue felt kind of like a cat’s now, slightly rough and abrasive rather than smooth. It had made him self-conscious. But Johnny didn’t seem to mind the scrape of it over his knuckles, between his fingers, along his palm. He groaned as heat filled Ben’s mouth, a little of the fire and tension leeching away.

But not much. “C’mon, old man, give it to me. You know what I need,” Johnny said, running his gaze over him, eyes heavy with lust. He licked his lips, slow and deliberate. And it always hit Ben in the gut like a fist to have someone look at him that way now when he knew what he looked like; a big orange rock. Even if that someone was just Johnny Storm looking for a way to get off without burning someone to death.

He gave in and leaned back, not able to deny him even if he knew why. “Okay, okay.”

Eagerly Johnny sat up and grabbed one of the packets from the bed beside him. His hard cock stood tall in his lap, flames dancing across it. Ben winced at the thought but just watched as Johnny the tore the foil packet open and unrolled the condom slightly before handing it to Ben. Then he shifted one of the pillows down, positioning it under his hips as he rolled back onto his stomach, the support lifting his ass into the air. He laid down all the way, face on the bed, spreading his legs wide as Ben slid off the bed and moved down to climb back on it between them.

Johnny folded his arms under his chin, turned his head and watched Ben from the corner of one eye. He licked his lips again, and rolled his shoulders forward, flame rippling in waves across his skin as he made no secret that he was rubbing his cock against the pillow under him.

“Gonna wait for it, hotshot, or do it all yourself?” Ben asked wryly, his voice a low growl. Johnny bit his lip and stilled his hips, but it was obviously an effort.  

Ben frowned and concentrated on rolling the condom on over his smallest finger. Conscious, as always, that his thick, three-fingered hands were odd. Strange. Not as strange as the pathetic mess his transformation had left of his own dick and balls – little more than a few lumps down there with a hole for him to piss out of – but it didn’t matter now. Not when Johnny was begging for it from him like this. He leaned over him, pushing his knee up and spreading the kid’s thighs wide, probably wider than was comfortable but he didn’t seem to mind, his hips working into the pillow underneath him again. He was panting now too, the sounds loud and heady in Ben’s ears. He kept his hands steady with effort.

The lube came next. Drizzled over his covered finger, right above the kid’s ass, so the extra dripped down onto his body, steaming faintly where it struck flame-flicker skin.

“Ready?”

“Oh god just do it old man do it do it now,” Johnny said, the words a babbling stream, looking over his shoulder at him now, mouth open, panting harder for breath. His heavy-lidded eyes watching as Ben leaned forward, braced his free hand next to his shoulder and lowered the prepared one to his ass.

He found the hole with his fingertip. Probed it a moment with slickness, then, at Johnny’s impatient push back, slid his thick finger slowly through the ring of muscle and deep, deep into his ass. Johnny groaned loud and long as Ben pressed all the way in without pausing, his eyes screwing shut, mouth working on little gasps, flame dancing over his skin in patches, stuttering and flickering.  

He leaned back enough to take his weight back on his legs again, lifted his free hand and stroked it down Johnny’s trembling, fire-wreathed back. Watched him squirm and thrust against the pillow under him, his hands fisted against the bed. Watched the flex of his back, the clench of his butt. Felt him tight around his finger. Turned his hand and pulled back a little, testing, then began to thrust as Johnny just opened his mouth and began to pant, harsh and heavy, his body moving in time with Ben’s motions, screwing himself back onto his finger. Flame rippled heavy over his skin.  Close to a full flame-on but not quite. And even Ben could feel the heat through his thick skin now, nearing uncomfortable, but he didn’t stop. Didn’t slow his thrusts into Johnny’s ass. Probing around for his sweet-spot with little twists. Knowing he’d finally found it when Johnny arched, eyes wide, mouth open on a choked-off groan, body moving faster as he humped the pillow under him, fucking himself on Ben’s finger wildly now.

He came with a shout, arching up off the bed, nearly his whole body engulfed in flame, and Ben leaned down over him, pressing him back down, covering him carefully – holding most of his weight off but not all of it –  while Johnny squirmed under him, trapped and groaning and panting, until the fire finally flickered and died away.

Ben licked at a last lingering flame on Johnny’s neck. It faded to warmth on his tongue as Johnny snickered and squirmed a little under him. Not trying to get away from him or looking annoyed, even though it was rock-like skin pressed against his instead of regular flesh. Or maybe because of it. Which made Ben’s gut warm and his eyes ache despite himself.

“Tickles,” Johnny said gruffly. Opened one eye and grinned up at Ben, relaxed and sated and smug. And he’d drown himself before he ever told the kid this – his damn ego was big enough as it was – but Ben liked that look on him best. Just fucked and limp under him and smiling like the sun. It made him weak in the knees and putty in his hands. It was a good thing they didn’t do this more often; if he ever looked at him like that any other time, Ben would cheerfully agree to any hair-brained scheme Johnny Storm cooked up without thinking.

Or maybe he already had.

\--fin--


End file.
